Libby focused again on the moss-kissed stone. “Where, exactly?” She’d seen similar stones around St. Mary’s, sort of. Granite ones, certainly, and roughly the same rectangular shape, though this was by far the largest she’d beheld. Those others had only one hole though. And while most were simply garden decorations at this point, a few still had cords tied to the holes, the other end of which extended to the roofs. Anchoring the thatch, Mabena had said, to keep it from blowing away in the first good storm.

Mamm-wynn giggled and gave her arm a playful nudge with her shoulder. “As if you don’t know.”

Had Mr. Menna mentioned the stone that morning? Libby tried to recall, but she hadn’t noted anything about a large slab of granite.

But the lady didn’t seem to notice her silence. She let loose a happy little sigh and leaned into Libby’s arm as if they were old friends. “I always loved hearing the tales of the Betrothal Stone. They’re probably more fiction than fact, but even so. I wove a few of my own for my children. And when my dear boy proposed to his darling right here, I think I was every bit as pleased by it as Theresa was. And now you have your own story to tell!”

Libby’s stomach flopped. Not exactly in the way it had when Mabena rebuked her and Lottie. But still, it wasn’t comfortable. Clearly this lovely lady thought her someone else. Which was not only ironic, given the talk of the importance of names, but also distressing. She needed to find out where Mamm-wynn belonged and return her. Because as delightful as their conversation had been, she hadn’t ever meant to have it with her.

That probably shouldn’t make disappointment sink so heavily into her bones. But it had been nice, if only for a quarter of an hour, to call her Grandmother and feel as though she belonged there by her side.

Her smile wobbled now when she put it on. “May I help you home, Mamm-wynn?”

As if the mere mention of it sapped her strength, the lady leaned more heavily upon her and nodded. “I think that would be wise. Mrs. Dawe will be cross with me for sneaking out again.” But she laughed. “I keep telling her that someone has to keep her on her toes.”

Hopefully whoever Mrs. Dawe was, she wouldn’t be cross with Libby for keeping her out instead of returning her the moment their paths crossed. But she hadn’t known the lady had been sneaking anywhere.

And even if she had, she wasn’t entirely certain she would have done anything differently. Even if the conversation had been intended for someone else, it had lit something in her.

“We had better take the shortcut.” Mamm-wynn indicated another path.